


There is a woman

by In_Flagrante_Delicto



Series: There is seven birds [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon, Regret, Survivor Guilt, introspective, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Flagrante_Delicto/pseuds/In_Flagrante_Delicto
Summary: The first of seven character studies. This one: Lucretia.





	There is a woman

There is a woman, and she is powerful. A Director, even.

She has a Bureau. And a moon base.

What she doesn’t have, is friends.

She had them before, of course. They travelled together for one hundred years, trying to defeat The Hunger.

But she got rid of that, voided the memories.

(Hah! Voided)

She struggles to remember it all herself, sometimes. Not because the memories were erased, but because she is old. Older than humans have a right to be, if she counts the one hundred years.

She normally does. 

Her body feels too young, sometimes. It’s not really, but her mind tells her that there should be a fragility that doesn’t exist.

She’s (probably) doing better than her friends, at least. If she forgets anything, she has the journals that documented everything.

They’re in her handwriting. Because she wrote them. 

That was her job. They all had jobs, roles to fulfill.

Davenport was the captain.

He was... Cap’n’port, the only gnome on the Starblaster. And now...

A gnome walks past her, carrying a tray with two glasses of water. He sets them down on her desk, then beckons her over.

”Davenport!” He says, encouraging.

She wants to cry, looking at him. Looking at what she had _done_ to him.

She had to do it, it was the only way; but that doesn’t make it any better.

She walks over to her desk and takes a seat.

”Hello, Davenport,” she says kindly, “how are you?”

”Davenport!” He replies, settling on a stool.

He grabs his glass, nodding his head towards hers as if to say, ‘ _Go on, it’s not poisoned_ ’ 

She takes it, and smiles nervously. The kind of smile you might have if you were at a friends place for the first time and their entire living room was full of carved wooden ducks.

For example.

A tapping on her hand eases her back into the present.

”Davenport?” He asks her.

She nods smoothly. 

“Thank you, Davenport,” she says in response to his incessant tapping, “I’m alright now.”

He pulls back his hand, apparently satisfied.

She takes a long sip of water. 

Poor Davenport. At least she left the others in better places.

They’ll be _fine_.


End file.
